


i can't stop this feeling, deep inside of me

by interabang



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-22 01:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13753248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interabang/pseuds/interabang
Summary: Gamora walks in on Peter as he's working in the cargo bay and listening to his music. And while he's not wearing a shirt.





	i can't stop this feeling, deep inside of me

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from, well, [you know the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NrI-UBIB8Jk). This is set a couple weeks after Vol. 1.
> 
> Also, many thanks to [calydon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calydon/pseuds/calydon) for your cheerleading!

Gamora entered the cargo bay as she tapped her datapad, ready to take inventory of the group’s supplies.

She didn’t expect to see Peter already there, lifting boxes.

She froze in place, one finger hovering over the datapad.

He was facing the opposite direction, and he didn’t seem to hear her, his ever-present headphones covering his ears. He swayed his head back and forth to the rhythm of whichever song he was listening to, then bent down to lift one box, muttering a string of curse words and then, “Come on, you can do this.”

He slowly rose, groaning, “Oh yeah!”

Then he took one step backward, and another, shaking under the weight of the box, and set it back down. “Okay, nope.” 

Gamora couldn’t help but start to smile as she watched him stubbornly struggle with the storage containers. She was about to announce her presence and offer her help, as she could easily raise them over her head and cut the time of his task in half.

Then he sighed, and lifted his shirt off in one smooth, fluid movement - somehow without moving his headphone.

He tossed the soaked shirt to the side, and crouched down in an attempt to lift the box again.

Clutching the datapad to her chest, Gamora silently darted to one side, behind a cart that was barely tall enough to hide her from his view.

She knew she shouldn’t be hiding and staring at him like this. She wouldn’t want Peter staring at _her_.

Would she?

Slowly, she peered around the crate and was relieved that Peter’s back was still facing her. 

She couldn’t keep herself from tracing his taut muscles with her eyes. Areas where she used to pinpoint as the best places to skewer and stab, now became places she wanted to reach out and place her hands - and maybe her lips - upon.

His shoulders flexed with every movement; droplets of moisture began to roll down the creases of his spine, toward the small indentations above the still covered curve of his backside.

Gamora shook her head slightly, realizing that the longer she stared at Peter’s backside, she was starting to breathe faster.

She’d seen him take his shirt off before; sometimes she’d sworn he waited until she entered a room just so he could lift it off in front of her. She had discarded the notion because it was so foolish. Whatever the reason, she should be used to this. She’d shared his bed with him, for God’s sake.

Then again, it had been just the one time, when they were so exhausted from barely making it out alive during their last mission, that they hadn’t considered the implication of passing out next to each other.

So no, she should not be acting like this. She was being as immature as, well...

 _Peter_.

Yet she couldn’t keep her breath from hitching even faster, no more than she could stop her heart from thudding louder and quicker in her chest. Nor could she stop _looking_  at Peter’s bare back dripping with sweat – something she should have found disgusting - as his muscles contracted and smoothed out, while he continued stacking boxes and singing under his labored breath to the song on his beloved music player.

And it was when she heard him sing that made Gamora’s lips curve up into a smile. She took a step out from behind the crate, so she could recognize the song.

When she took a couple of steps out in the open, Peter heaved one more box on top of the stack, and with his final surge of strength, he let out a loud, low grunt of exertion. It sent a shiver right down to Gamora’s lower belly, and she stopped in the same place she had frozen when she’d walked in on Peter.

Usually, she had lighting fast reflexes. Faster than Drax claimed he had, at least.

But when Peter put his hands on his bare hips and turned around, he caught her staring right at him.

“Gamora!” he shouted, and they both simultaneously fumbled with their electronic devices: Gamora nearly dropped the datapad and caught it before it hit the floor, and Peter yanked the buds out of his ears.

With her cheeks burning, hands shaking, and heart still racing, Gamora lifted her gaze toward Peter. His chest glistened and heaved, and his broad shoulders and arms were flexed to their full extent. Without thinking about it, Gamora shifted her thighs and didn’t know whether she was more embarrassed or surprised at how _aroused_ she was.

Peter stood right next to the stack of boxes, still gasping in long breaths of air. He lifted one hand to brush sweat from his brow, and then, he said her name again, so softly she could barely hear it.

Gamora could only stammer, “I have to go,” and turned to flee from the cargo bay.

 

 

 

She ignored him for an entire day cycle.

Eventually, Peter approached her. “Hey.”

She ignored him.

“Okay, I get it,” he said, crossing his arms over his clothed chest. “Look, I just wanted to let you know that if you were checking me out back in the storage bay... It’s fine.”

Her face burned. As usual, she couldn’t fully parse his Terran colloquialism - this time, though, she had an idea about what it meant.

“I was _not_  ‘checking you out!’” she snapped, her voice much louder and harsher than she intended.

He grinned at her. “Sure, you weren’t.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then muttered, “Pride. You have too much of it, Peter.”

Winking, he turned to walk away from her backwards, uncrossing his arms and lowering them down to the hem of his shirt, as if he were going to remove it. Instead, he smoothed down the wrinkled fabric. “Just sayin’... If you ever want a private show, all y’need to do is ask.”

Gamora had realized, by then, that she would lay down her life for him over a dozen times without question, without hesitation – but he could be so damn infuriating.

He was also, infuriatingly and undoubtedly, _very_ attractive without a shirt.

 


End file.
